World War Z: Home Front UK
by Octaviusa
Summary: Max Brooks continues to interview survivors of the Zombie War for the United Nations' Postwar Commission Report. What follows is a collection of the most recent interviews from survivors from the British Isles. This is the Home Front UK.
1. Vice-Admiral Sir Francis Seymour

**LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM**

 **[Vice-Admiral Sir Francis Seymour VC CBE served as captain of the destroyer HMS** _ **Edinburgh**_ **for much of the Zombie War before serving as Rear-Admiral 2** **nd** **Coastal Defence Force and eventually Second Sea Lord during the closing stages of the War. He is currently writing his first book,** _ **The Zombie War at Sea: A Strategic Analysis.**_ **Despite his reputation and status as a national hero, he has a modest and slightly timid air and cradles a tumbler of water from which he takes careful sips every few minutes. I sit with the Vice-Admiral in the new Army and Navy Club on Piccadilly, the original club having been destroyed early in the Battle for London.]**

We've always been the first and last defence of Britain. I must stress that is not a claim to superiority for my service over the others. **[He smiles]** Beyond that of the rivalries that are expected, of course. Damned fine work done by all service personnel throughout the War and afterwards.

Never the less, being an island nation, the Royal Navy has traditionally been the service most intimately involved with protecting our shores and interests overseas. The Zombie War, however, was rather different to any war previously fought by Britain. Not since 1688 has there been a successful invasion of Britain, something which we largely owe to what we in the Navy refer to as the Home Waters; the seas that surround Britain. Yet, initially, these seas did little to protect us from the inevitable.

At first glance, one might have thought that the island nations of the world had a natural advantage when the War began. In some respects, we did, but it cannot be denied that island nations have had rather a mixed bag.

 **[He gives a grim grin]**

Cuba is, of course, the island nation par excellence, having used its isolation to its advantage and emerged as the leading superpower in the western hemisphere through careful application of military resources. They, however, had the luxury of a highly centralised political system and a relatively low population. Most European nations, unfortunately, it could be said, did not have either luxury during the Great Panic. Least of all Britain.

On the other side of things, we have Iceland. Far more isolated than either Britain or Cuba, yet was entirely impotent when half of Europe arrived, bringing the undead with them. It is still even now mostly overrun. After London was finally taken and large-scale operations on the UK mainland were completed, I was tasked with co-ordinating the naval blockade of Iceland, ensuring no refugees from Iceland slipped through our net without extensive at sea screening. It was considered a serious problem, due to the extremely high numbers of undead on the island. We even had a few isolated outbreaks in the north of Scotland long after London was taken, which were believed to have originated from Iceland.

The refugee crisis in Iceland during the Great Panic is testament to the power of the sea. People feel safe when they know an ocean separates them from danger, and so people, understandably, sought sanctuary on islands. The influx of peoples to the Caribbean and the Pacific, again, showed that. In the case of Cuba, when certain refugees were eventually allowed in, the safety promised by the sea did not disappoint. But for the hundreds of thousands of Europeans, many of them Britons, who sought sanctuary on Iceland, the small nation could not cope and their island paradise collapsed.

This, it is generally agreed, was primarily due to pre-War Iceland having no standing army and a tiny navy that was overwhelmed just days into the Great Panic. The importance of a centralised military government with extensive military materials available in protecting an island population cannot be understated. And unfortunately for Iceland, that deficit proved fatal.

One of the most interesting success stories, on the other hand, to which I devote considerable attention in my upcoming book, is Gotland. The small Swedish island in the Baltic Sea stood as a bastion of strength at a time when Finland and Russia to its east were overrun and Europe to its south and west struggled to contain the continental migrations of the undead. Although difficult to ascertain precisely what happened, due to many of the protagonists being killed or information being withheld post-War by the Holy Russian Government, **[A flicker of annoyance flashes across his otherwise reticent face]** it is clear that the Russian Navy seized control of the island in the latter stages of the Great Panic.

It is believed that the Russian Admiralty ordered the establishment of a safe base of operations in the Baltic Sea, with Gotland being the obvious choice. It was strategically placed in the centre of the sea, almost half way between the two major Russian naval bases at Kaliningrad and St. Petersburg, and so Russian ships blockaded the island and marines and paratroopers secured the island. This was achieved relatively quickly, as despite the swelling refugee population of the small island, the Swedish military could not maintain order and put up no resistance. Many on the island, in fact, welcomed the Russians and were relieved that a strong military power was devoting such military resources to protecting the island.

The Russian Admiralty was moved from St. Petersburg and re-established on the island, along with a great many Russian refugees from the old imperial capital. As the Russian army gave ground and retreated north and east towards Siberia, the Russian navy was strengthening its base to the west and successfully implemented a blockade of Gotland that prevented European refugees from entering the established safe zone, something that ultimately led to the collapse of Iceland.

The island itself served as a safe base of operations for the Russian navy in the Baltic and provided a military capability unrivalled in Europe and perhaps only outmatched by Cuba in the Caribbean. Much like Cuba, in fact, Gotland became an economic powerhouse and remains one of the most valuable states in the Holy Russian Empire today, providing Russia with undisputable control over the entire Baltic Sea region.

 **[He pauses and takes a sip of water]**

Britain, however, was unlike any of those island nations I've just described. Not a Cuban or Gotland-style success story, nor a tragedy on the scale of Iceland, but somewhere in between.

At the time of the Great Panic, Britain was the third most populated island in the world, and undoubtedly one of the most densely populated. She was also one of the most visited and her airports, railway infrastructure and coastal ports were always at full capacity, doing business with the rest of the world. The English Channel, or _La Manche_ as our French cousins call it, was the busiest shipping lane in the world before the War and the Royal Navy was tasked with protecting this vital artery of world trade.

However, as the Great Panic took hold and rumours became widespread, Britain was still open for business. The Prime Minister saw no immediate reason to restrict air traffic or shipping until it was far too late. I must say at this point that I have nothing but admiration for the Israeli government's foresight when they closed their borders. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but the decision to take such an extraordinary step during a time of uncertainty is highly commendable, and I can only wish that such a brave decision had been made in Britain.

 **[He sighs]**

Well, such a decision was not made, and we had to make the best of the situation we faced. When things really started to get sticky and the Prime Minister abandoned London, I was still aboard _Edinburgh_ , which was then part of what became known as Task Force Gamma. We were tasked with patrolling the Channel and turning ships away from our southernmost ports. The vast container ships from China were the real worry at that time. It was widely rumoured that this all had started in China and the Government ordered a blanket ban on Asian shipping from entering British Home Waters. It was feared that the container ships were full of refugees from China. **[He pauses]** We had to fire on a number of vessels to stop them breaking the blockade.

 **[He flinches as if remembering something and then composes himself and changes the subject]**

My daughter Samantha was a lieutenant aboard the aircraft carrier HMS _Invincible_ at the time, which served as the flagship of Task Force Alpha, which everyone called the Grand Fleet because it was based at Scapa Flow in the Orkneys, as in World War One. It was agreed at that point that the 'Grand Fleet' was the safest place for people of importance and would be the interim base for the British Government until they relocated to the Scottish Highlands.

My daughter told me of the shock when her ship was told that Her Majesty would not accept a helicopter extraction from Windsor. Everyone was shocked. Across the entire fleet. Across the entire country. It was a number of months later when the civilian leadership collapsed, when the Prime Minister died and the military filled the void, that many within the military were arguing that we should airlift her against her will. That decision was vetoed by Admiral Reynolds, who was head of the Supreme Command by then. He argued that it was Her Majesty's prerogative to decide whether she went down with her ship. Well, as you can imagine, few within the Navy argued against that. The best we could do was make regular supply drops to the castle.

 _ **Did you agree with her decision to stay at Windsor?**_

 **[He pauses as if gathering his thoughts and begins quoting quietly]**

I would salute my lord—  
the watch dog who protects our household,  
the mainstay which saves our ship of state,  
the lofty pillar which holds our roof beams high. _1_

You'll have to forgive me. That's my classical education speaking. **[He laughs]** In short, yes. I agreed with Admiral Reynolds entirely. The decision to stay aboard is one of the most important decisions a military commander can make. As someone who has commanded one of Her Majesty's ships, I can attempt to emphasise with such a decision and I firmly believe it is the commander's decision and nobody else's. Besides, her example inspired millions of trapped citizens to carry on fighting.

I will never forget the jubilation when Windsor was finally taken during the Battle for London. Windsor had always been a monument of great national importance, but the retaking of the Castle marked for most the true beginning of the end of the War for Britain. I'll never forget getting the message. I was in Edinburgh at the time, which was still the acting capital. There were spontaneous celebrations across the city, huge parades put together quickly and chaotically. There were even street parties; the sort we had when the Second World War ended, or for the Queen's coronation. **[He smiles]**

 _ **How did you feel when the military formally took over after the Prime Minister was killed?**_

I felt relieved if I am perfectly honest. The Prime Minister's death was indeed a shock to us all, but many within the military did not lament his death for long.

 _ **Did you?**_

Again, if I am perfectly honest, not entirely. I lamented the death of a national leader, but not necessarily the man himself. He had created a lot of enemies in his treatment of certain military commanders after the Great Panic and his obsession with keeping beach heads open across the entire country was bleeding us dry.

 _ **Could you elaborate?**_

He demanded that the military create and maintain what he called 'vital safety lines' in all the major cities and towns of the UK; even in 'White Zones' that were completely overrun and beyond help at that point, such as Birmingham and Manchester. In those cases, he diverted precious military resources to opening such safe zones to ensure civilians had a place to escape to. However, despite the warnings of many, Admiral Reynolds chief amongst them, that such a plan was a complete waste of military resources and, in fact, would result in extensive military as well as civilian casualties, he would not listen. It took three months before he dropped the plan, after the 7th Infantry Brigade was completely wiped out trying to keep the last 'vital safety line' open in Manchester. **[He shakes his head with a grimace on his face]** Four thousand highly trained personnel wiped out overnight.

Even before the helicopter crash, there was talk amongst the officers of a power struggle. The Prime Minister and many within what remained of the Cabinet hadn't a clue about the situation on the ground or at sea. The many military defeats and disasters such as that at Manchester during that first year were almost entirely blamed on him.

 _ **There are some people who believe that the helicopter crash was not an accident but a successful assassination attempt organised by the military. What would you say to this?**_

 **[He turns his nose up as if reacting to a bad smell]**

I find people who believe in such a claim to be naïve. He may have been unpopular with many within the military, but he had his supporters too. So, any elaborate conspiracy theories that claim there was a universal desire to, **[he pauses]** 'have him killed', are ridiculous. While some of his decisions were unpopular, he could not be considered to have been incompetent, despite his military mistakes. As I said earlier, hindsight is a wonderful thing, and one must be cautious when attempting to make sense of past events that are difficult to explain. Besides, that's just not how things are done here. One doesn't kill someone else simply because you disagree with them!

Besides, the aftermath was hardly what you would have expected if somebody had planned the Prime Minister's death. Parliament had essentially been dissolved as there were fewer than one hundred Members of Parliament at Supreme Command HQ in Scotland. The Royal Air Force and aircraft from the 'Grand Fleet' had tried to extract as many MPs as they could in those first few weeks but the total number was well below what anybody in government had hoped for. That's when the Supreme Command had been formed, combining military and civilian government to enable a functioning government to exist. And the Secretary of State for Defence had been killed early on, so it made sense for the military to assume direct control over military operations.

Anyway, Admiral Reynolds was legally elected into the position of head of the Supreme Command after the Prime Minister's death. He gained a majority vote by the remnants of Parliament as well as the Cobra Committee. In my eyes that is a legal endorsement of power. So, those people that claim the Admiral gained power illegally are entirely wrong and choose not to listen to the facts. The Admiral did an incredible job, in my opinion. Fully abandoning England and Wales, while it sounds ludicrous now, was probably the best decision he could have made. Instead of being spread desperately thin throughout the country, reforming the line at the Antonine Wall enabled us to concentrate our forces and use them effectively.

The first major advancement of the frontier was completing the retaking of Falkirk before moving on to Edinburgh and then Glasgow. In all of those battles the Admiral's tactical genius came to the fore. His combined deployment of infantry, armoured battalions, and the Royal Artillery alongside landings by the Royal Marines and naval support from the coast proved to be hugely successful. I was still captain of the _Edinburgh_ then, and I remember the profound sensation amongst myself and the crew that we were instrumental in the retaking of our namesake city.

The Admiral directed the battle from his flagship HMS _Ark Royal_ and he gave us the honour of leading the fleet up the Firth of Forth. Our first objective early that first morning was to help the infantry secure the Firth Bridge by providing light covering fire at the far side of the bridge, thus reducing the number of undead that came flooding onto the bridge. The fire and advance tactics worked wonderfully on the bridge and we managed to push them right back relatively quickly, with thousands being pushed off the bridge into the Firth. I'll admit I did not envy the infantry the sight of thousands of those buggers running in a seething column towards the front line. My view from the _Edinburgh_ was obscured and I could only see the flashes of the machine guns and the bodies falling off the sides of the bridge. Bloody awful.

Once the bridge was taken we were to coordinate with the Royal Artillery and execute a rolling barrage on the outskirts of the city, similar to the tactics employed by commanders during the First World War. Our naval artillery was to pave the way for the land forces in the outskirts of the city as we tried to lure as many of the undead out of the centre of the city as possible. Once our troops were at the outskirts of the city, having already killed what seemed like hundreds of thousands of undead, the _Edinburgh_ maintained the fire on the enemy positions before moving east in support of the Royal Marine landings at the docks of the city.

This was probably the riskiest part of the Admiral's battleplan as it almost entirely hinged on the infantry having lured as many undead out of the centre of the city into the surrounding hills. One of the landing sites had to be abandoned even before they landed, as thousands of undead became visible as soon as the fleet started opening fire on the area. Further up the coast the Marines had better luck and were able to hold beachheads which allowed further troops to be deployed in the heart of the city. With naval and air support, the beachheads were secured and expanded throughout the next day with Edinburgh Castle being taken, followed swiftly by Holyrood Palace.

The castle turned out to have provided sanctuary for hundreds of people. A friend of mine in the Rifles told me what a truly remarkable sight it was – like something out of an Arthurian legend or a Shakespearean play. As the infantry cleared the site around the castle, the inhabitants were waving flags and cheering above the din of battle, many of them in medieval armour! **[He laughs]** They opened the gates to our boys and girls like the liberating army they were. A truly exceptional moment.

The next day we had to repel a major counter-attack by the enemy, which at one point almost pushed us back to the castle itself. But with the Admiral having relocated HQ to the Palace of Holyrood, the combined defence held and the following morning Edinburgh was declared liberated. **[He smiles]** You can imagine the celebrations aboard my ship. One of our lieutenant commanders, a chap called McBride, was himself from Edinburgh and it brought the magnitude of our achievement home – the first major city retaken in Britain.

As part of the celebrations, myself and the crew of the _Edinburgh_ paraded through our namesake city and we were welcomed as liberating heroes. We paraded alongside members of the Royal Regiment of Scotland outside the Castle. The Prince of Wales was flown over from the Isle of Man to officially proclaim the liberation of Edinburgh as well as the first major victory in the War of the re-conquest of Britain. That was a good day. **[He pauses]** Over the next five years, days like that were rare. Far too rare.

* * *

 _1_ I later discovered this was a quote from the Ancient Greek tragedy _Agamemnon_ by Aeschylus, 896-8.


	2. Professor Katarina Ritter

**CAMBRIDGE, UNITED KINGDOM**

 **[Dr Katarina Ritter has been Professor of Modern European History at Trinity College, University of Cambridge, since 1991 and is currently one of the most influential academics working on the preliminary writings of the Cambridge History of the Dark Years Crisis. _1_ She has published several influential articles on the Zombie War, including: **_**Northern European Co-operation during the Early Dark Years Crisis**_ **;** _ **Restoration Policy in Post-Crisis Britain**_ **;** _ **Early-Crisis German Foreign Policy**_ **; and** _ **Enduring Democracy: The Dark Years Crisis and European Political Thought**_ **. She has also published a monograph on the War:** _ **The Dark Years Crisis and the Central European Experience**_ **. Although a native of Germany, her English is exceptional and she bears only the slightest hint of an accent. I meet the professor in her elaborate study in Trinity College, overlooking the famous Great Court.]**

The Dark Years Crisis, as we call the 'Zombie War' in the Academy, provided humanity with something never before experienced in our history. An almost entirely universal experience. Never before has humanity been united so ultimately in a shared experience as during the aftermath of the Great Panic and the beginning of the Crisis proper. When considering the numbers of people involved, well over six billion just before the Great Crisis took hold, the experience becomes all the more unique, fascinating and terrifying.

Individuals in every corner of the globe, from farmers in Germany to factory workers in Beijing, from children in Zambia to students in Cambridge, all went through similar sensations and experiences as one another at more or less the same time. Even the most isolated communities of the pre-Crisis period were not permitted to forgo the experience of total war and total upheaval for very long.

A good friend and colleague of mine at Magdalene College is currently writing a paper on the isolationist tribal groups of the Amazon rainforest and their experiences of the Crisis. Many tribal groups which had never come into contact with modern society pre-Crisis suddenly found themselves hosting thousands of refugees who had fled into the depths of the rainforest seeking protection in the jungle's isolation. Many such encounters ended tragically for the native peoples, with most tribes fighting the invaders and due to the sheer number of refugees, most of the few remaining uncontacted tribes were wiped out by the desperate refugees. It is estimated that fewer than ten groups that had not been contacted pre-Crisis survive today. **[She frowns]** Dreadfully sad if you think about it.

Likewise, in the far north, the lands of the Inuit peoples of North America, which were some of the most isolated inhabited areas in the world before the Crisis, became prime real estate for millions of refugees. While these first contacts often ended violently, there are examples of the local populations sharing with the refugees their expertise and skill at surviving in such a hostile environment. As you will know, hundreds of thousands of people died in Canada alone due to a lack of basic survival knowledge, so these tales are inspirational and really quite remarkable.

 **[She stands from her desk quickly before walking towards the bookshelves to her left.]**

You may have heard of the novel 'The Winter's Tale', written by Sarah Montague. **[She pauses, searching her shelves]** Here it is.

 **[She produces a well-kept dark blue book and places it on her desk in front of me, before sitting back down. The cover of the book shows the northern lights above a bleak but beautiful Arctic landscape.]**

And before you ask, yes, it is swimming with Shakespearean imagery, hence the title. I think she pulls it together rather well. It is a semi-autobiographical account of her experiences as a Canadian refugee who receives sanctuary from the Inuit peoples of Baffin Island. It is one of the most well written and engaging novels to have come out of the Crisis in the English language, in my humble opinion. I would highly recommend it.

 **[She pauses before shaking her head and frowning.]**

Where was I? **[She pauses in concentration and before I could speak she suddenly shouts]** Universal experience! **[She pauses again, looking serious]** Now, a few of my colleagues would argue that I am being purely hyperbolic and overly romantic when I use such a term, as there is a myriad of factors which prevent a consensus being reached on such a potentially problematic term. While I would disagree, I certainly would not ignore the clear differences in the experience of over six billion people. Every individual experienced the Crisis through their own unique blend of cultural, intellectual and emotional background which, for them, made the universal experience more personal. Never the less, it is exciting to study an event that has affected humanity like none other in our long history.

 **[There is a long pause.]**

 **Perhaps we could discuss your own experience of the Crisis. It is my understanding that you were here in Cambridge when the Great Panic struck?**

Yes. **[Another pause]** My experience was not terribly unique I'm afraid. I expect you've heard a great deal more exciting tales on your travels.

 **I have found that every person I have spoken to has provided me with a uniquely different perspective. While, as you say, sharing many similar experiences. Please, begin where you wish.**

Very well. **[She pauses, thinking]** When I was an undergraduate at Trinity, my fellow students and I would often joke about a time when we would have to defend Trinity from an invading force. **[She smiles]** It was almost always another College, or more likely the true enemy: Oxford. **[She laughs]** Anyway, we concluded that despite the high walls and the courtyard architecture of much of Cambridge, it would be hard to defend it from a determined enemy. In reality, those high walls and the ornate medieval architecture are all for show – many of them are not even medieval, but nostalgic nineteenth century frauds built by the Victorians. The true issue, we concluded, would be a contracted siege. If we could barricade the gates into the College grounds, the lack of supplies would be the major problem. **[She pauses and frowns]** Who knew such adolescent fun would have turned out to be so prophetic.

 **[She shakes her head and changes the subject]**

Regardless, when the rumours started to get worse and people started to leave Cambridge, I was of two minds. I didn't want to leave unless it was absolutely necessary. I'd lived in Cambridge since 1971, after I left my native Frankfurt in Germany to study here as an undergraduate. So, Cambridge being my home for most of my life, I was loathed to leave. But my husband Jonathon was trying to persuade me to leave. He always was the level headed one. **[She smiles sadly]** He often used to say that I was so invested in the book under my nose, I couldn't see the world around me. I suppose you could say that about most scholars. But, because of my stubbornness, it was far too late by the time I actually decided to leave. Jonathon and I organised transport and planned to head for the nearby military base at RAF Wyton, as we knew many others had planned. That obviously worried me as I doubted the base could have provided for the probable thousands who had had the same idea. That didn't matter in the end as we didn't get that far. Besides, we later found out that the RAF had abandoned the base by then, moving to more secure bases in Lincolnshire further north.

After hours and hours stuck in the most dreadful traffic we had barely left the city and events were spiralling rather worryingly. The army from the local barracks had established check points along all the major roads out of the city. I remember so vividly that as we approached one, we heard deafening explosions from behind us. We got out of the car and saw RAF planes bombing the city! The shock of such an extreme action woke us up a bit, but despite myself, all I could think about was the medieval buildings and the libraries in the centre of the city.

After that point the Great Panic seemed to finally reach me. Once the bombs began to fall people began mobbing the checkpoints and although we were rather close to one by the time we came to our senses, a number of cars in front of us smashed through the barricade. The soldiers at the checkpoint attempted to salvage the situation, but more and more people sped through the barriers, as did we. We didn't get far before we had to stop again. **[She pauses]**

To cut a long story short, we couldn't get out of the city that day. The roads were entirely blocked – and to think, Cambridge was such a small town! The military deployed in the area advised us to stay with our cars and wait. So we did as we were told, having no other option. Returning to College was beyond reasoning, considering the ongoing bombing and my thoughts were with colleagues who had chosen to stay. As we waited we heard from soldiers that a detachment of the Royal Artillery and an armoured division had moved into the city to the south to attempt the retake control of the centre. This was the first we had heard that the centre of the city had been lost in the first place! You can imagine the shock we felt, having left the city only hours before.

 **[She frowns as she recollects a memory]**

It was later that evening that I first came into contact with what people call the 'Undead', 'Zak', 'the Infected', 'Zombies', among a myriad of other names. We were still in the car, not having moved for hours, when we heard screams coming from far behind us. I got out of the car but could see very little; the only light coming from the cars' headlights. But the screaming got louder and people around us started to panic. We all looked to the soldiers who were stationed near us, who were franticly shouting into their walkie-talkies. Within moments almighty explosions could be heard, and felt, from where the screams had been coming from further down the road. We later guessed that the soldiers at the checkpoint were co-ordinating with the artillery miles away. Well, we ran after that. We abandoned the car, taking what little we could carry in bags we had brought and ran past the checkpoints through the mass of stationary cars.

Helicopters then came flying overhead and started raining missiles and machine gun fire down behind us. I didn't look back. I was too focused on keeping a tight grip on Jonathon's hand as we ran as fast as we could through the crowds. We ran until our lungs felt like they would burst. We stopped and looked behind us. Flames were everywhere and we could still hear screaming, although more remote.

 **[She pauses, looked briefly at a picture of a bearded man on her desk, which I assumed to be her husband Jonathon. The emotion in her voice then evaporated as she resumed the academic tone she began the story with.]**

After I returned to Cambridge all those years later and restarted my academic career, I discovered that that first night was, in fact, one of the most successful British containment campaigns of the early Crisis. I should stress that "successful" in this context should not be overemphasised.

Although the early records are extremely difficult to get to grips with, many of them being incomplete or just plain wrong, I discovered that the military had designated Cambridge a strategic Defence Point, if you can believe it. The relatively low population and the surrounding open countryside made it, in the eyes of the military high command, more defensible than most other cities in the area. As a result, considerable military resources were applied into defending the city.

The morning after, my husband and I were told to journey back into the city, which, in the words of a rather naïve young soldier, "had been retaken with minimal casualties". The security going back into the city was considerably more formidable than the chaos it had been when we left. Very impressive what can be achieved in twenty-four hours, even during a time of such panic.

The city was being turned into a military stronghold of sorts, with considerable amounts of military hardware congregating throughout the city. When we finally arrived after hours and hours of walking in military escorted columns we were put up in townhouses at the edge of the city. The streets were littered with bodies, and although we re-entered the city a different way than we left it, we knew that the 'battle', if one can call it that, we had narrowly avoided on the main road had cost thousands of lives.

There were about twenty of us all squashed into one of these houses and we just waited. We could hear almost continuous gunfire and explosions throughout the day and night. The relatively low population of the surrounding area meant that the military was able to control the perimeter of the city reasonably successfully, and more and more people returned to the city. The city held for several months, which considering how most other cities in the UK and Europe fared, was really quite remarkable. But the fighting got closer and closer to the makeshift walls steadily built up by the military and parts of the city were already being abandoned sector by sector within a few weeks. Eventually the troops in the city were ordered to evacuate.

 **What happened to you when they evacuated?**

Well, Jonathon and I, along with most of the civilians in the city, were gradually evacuated to various 'safe zones', many of which were far from 'safe'. We were first moved to an old Cold War military compound to the north of Cambridge and that stayed operational for quite a few months, although food was the biggest issue. Feeding thousands of refugees was an immense task for the military. When food could reach us, we mainly subsisted on fish from the North Sea, as we did for the majority of the war thanks to the National Foodstuffs Decree which provided fuel and protection for fishing boats and trawlers to provide a much-needed supply of food for the nation. It wasn't a perfect plan, as you can imagine, once the seas began to fill up with the undead.

It was at this base that we got news that the Prime Minister had been killed in a helicopter crash. Most people couldn't believe that he had died in such a mundane way considering what was going on across the planet and there were a lot of rumours circulating. Still, it was a mighty blow to morale, despite his faults – although at that time nobody had a clue about the failed VSL **[Vital Safety Line]** plans and we weren't told about the defeat in Manchester until word spread of its own accord months after the battle.

 **You have written extensively on the political situation in Britain during this period. Do you consider the British Supreme Command to have been effective at that time?**

'Effective' is a difficult word to qualify considering the chaotic context, in my opinion. The Supreme Command certainly got a lot of things wrong, but that is true of every nation during the Early-Crisis. Generally speaking, however, I suppose it was as about as effective as it could be, especially after the defeat at Manchester. That shook up the Command's strategy a great deal and proved beyond doubt that the VSLs weren't working. One must also, of course, mention the man of the hour; when the Duke of Carmarthen, as he is now known, _2_ became head of the Supreme Command, the first cohesive strategy began to be formulated and the military situation improved significantly afterwards. Although 'defeats' were, of course, not unknown. The political situation also improved, with the end to the partisan politics under the late Prime Minister which had resulted in significant indecision and difficulties for the government.

An academic conference was held in Paris earlier this year, in which academics from around the world gave talks on various Early-Crisis political and military leaders and their strategies. Obviously, the famous names of Castro, Redeker and Raj-Singh took precedence, but the Duke of Carmarthen has been increasingly recognised as one of most able commanders of the Dark Years Crisis and has often been described as a new Wellington and Nelson combined. I think that's going a bit far, personally, but he is certainly heralded as a national hero on the lines of Churchill and the Duke of Wellington. Professor Geoffrey Llewellyn at Durham University published a comprehensive biography of him last year – 'The Duke of Carmarthen: The Hero of our Times'. It is an unashamedly positive portrayal of the Duke, but it has proven invaluable to my own work and is well worth a read if you want a detailed analysis of the strategic situation, especially during the 'Liberation campaigns'.

What was particularly effective, in my view, was the emphasis the Supreme Command placed upon research and development despite the ongoing war. Although most of the scientific labs and other facilities were either overrun or completely isolated for the entirety of the Early-Crisis, the government had centralised academic expertise, first aboard the 'Grand Fleet', and then at Supreme Command HQ in Scotland. Although scientists are still at odds about what caused the outbreak of the, 'infection', for want of a better word, Britain continued to be one of the largest centres for scientific research in the world, especially once the 'Liberation Campaigns' were underway. Post-Crisis Britain has maintained one of the most technologically advanced economies, particularly in oil production, and remains the single largest producer of pharmaceuticals outside of the Caribbean, and in my view has implemented one of the most effective post-Crisis reconstructions in Europe.

But the resources used to secure experts across all fields on science paved the way for this. In the few days before Jonathon and I decided to leave Cambridge, there was a considerable, **[she pauses]** exodus, shall we say, of my scientific colleagues from the University. The Government and military were requesting expertise across so many fields of science that it was clear that nobody really knew what they were dealing with at that early stage. Colleagues from the Departments of Chemistry, Biochemistry, Genetics, Evolutionary Biology, Ecology, Pharmacology, even Veterinary Medicine and Botanic Studies, left Cambridge during that time. But by far the largest group to leave were the pathologists. Almost everybody working on some form of pathology, right down to PhD students, were taken to a centralised military research base somewhere and airlifted out of Cambridge.

 **But you were left behind?**

 **[She laughs]** We historians don't flatter ourselves in believing we are indispensable in a crisis. No, no, we are needed _afterwards_ , to make sense of what happened and help humanity come to terms with what it has just gone through. We pick up the pieces, as it were. **[She pauses]** That's what we're trying to do here. Come to terms with what happened.

* * *

1 The term 'Dark Years Crisis' has become the standard name for the 'Zombie War' within academic circles throughout Europe, with names such as 'World War Z' and 'Zombie War' having largely fallen out of use early in the scholarship on the subject. This term is also often shortened to simply, 'The Crisis', although 'the War' is also frequently used.

2 Admiral David Reynolds was made the 1st Duke of Carmarthen (after his home town in Wales) by the Queen at Windsor Castle the very day the castle was retaken. He has been known as the Duke of Carmarthen ever since.


End file.
